After the Fall
by SuperNatural1985
Summary: Nine year old Nick feels awful after challenging eight year old Clay to jump down an elevator shaft. We have Clay's POV about the fall and the aftermath but what is Nick's POV? One shot


After The Fall

I own nothing except some original characters I sometimes bring in. Kelley Armstrong owns The Otherworld and all the wonderful information there.

The first part of this story is from Kelly Armstrong's Men of the Otherworld Page. 178

_The Elevator door was open. There were tools scattered around the opening, as if someone had been working on it, but the service man was nowhere to be seen. I walked up beside Nick and looked down the elevator shaft. _

"_Whoa," Nick said. "Where's the elevator?"_

_I looked around, then pointed up. It was just above our heads._

"_How far down do you think it is?" Nick said, peering into the inky black of the shaft. "Twenty feet?"_

"_Maybe thirty," I said, though I could barely see the floor through the darkness._

"_Bet you couldn't jump down that."_

"_Bet I could,"_

"_Bet you couldn't,"_

"_Could,"_

"_Couldn't,"_

_I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "How much?"_

"_All the movie popcorn. You do it, you can have mine. You chicken out, I get yours."_

"_You're on,"_

_At a low murmur of women's voices, I tensed and motioned for silence. We waited. No one appeared._

"_You stand watch," I said._

_Nick nodded and walked back to the dress rack. As he went, I squinted into the darkness. Thirty feet? That didn't seem right. If it was five feet, and each floor was at least-I stopped calculating. It didn't matter. I'd taken the dare._

_I stepped up to the edge, bent my knees, counted to three...and jumped._

I waited behind the dress rack my head spinning from the elevator shaft back and forth looking and listening trying to use the hunting and stalking lessons Clay had taught me, specifically trying to use my eyes and ears to sense danger. After I heard Clay jump I waited a minute wondering when I should check, finally I heard a _thunk_ and startled I ran back to the shaft and looked down. I could see nothing because of the inky blackness but I strained to see Clay willing my werewolf sight to kick in already.

"Clay," I hissed when the werewolf sight didn't work. I waited but heard not so much as breathing. It was far down so maybe I wouldn't be able to hear him, though.

"What are you doing?" a voice roared now. Surprised I turned and lost my balance for a moment almost throwing myself down the shaft unintentionally. "Wow," he boomed grabbing my arm to steady me. I looked from him to the shaft knowing I needed to get my father and Jeremy.

"Never play near an open elevator shaft," the man scolded. I nodded as he let me go and giving the shaft one last look I rushed past him. Not paying attention I knocked into the dress rack and a dress got caught in my shirt. I ripped the fabric from my sleeve annoyed and ran towards the appliance section where I knew Jeremy and Antonio were looking at toasters.

The toaster was Clay's fault; he had tried to shove two pieces in each side to speed up the process and broke it. I had thought this was an excellent idea but apparently not because when I tried it my poppa caught me before I had the chance to shove the second piece in and almost tanned my hide. Except for my poppa and me that is equivalent to tickling and teasing me, the Sorrentino family way unless he was really angry.

I rounded the corner and was startled and enormously happy to see Jeremy and my father rounding the corner of a washer and dryer set. "Nicky," Antonio called. He took three steps for every one of mine and suddenly he was in front of me. He knelt down to my height taking my shoulders in his bigger hands. "What happened?" he asked. I explained Clay's jump and thanked whatever force was out there that gave Jeremy extra senses, especially sensing when Clay was in trouble.

"He's at the bottom?" Jeremy asked when I was done my quick summery. His worried eyes turned fearful. He immediately got up and started running for the escalator.

"Nicky," my father said. Grabbing my hand he tore after Jeremy, I at the age of nine felt I was too old for my father's hand but looking back on it I am thankful for that now. I was terrified I had killed my best friend. Silent tears fell down my cheeks without me noticing and for once I was not ashamed to cry, not like the time when I cried at school in grade one when a boy had called me spoiled and stupid. I hated being called spoiled, from then on I vowed not to cry again but this was a different situation. I didn't face a bully this time but something that was entirely my fault; my best friend could be dead.

"Come on," my father said urgently but not angrily. My father was a hard man to anger. He got angry at my poppa all the time for the way he was running the family businesses. He argued that they could revamp the computer and internet section and my poppa argued they couldn't. On these days I listened outside the door, trying to figure out what the big deal was.

Once when my father had angrily burst out of my poppa's study he caught me almost flinging the door into my face, he looked down on me surprised and anger still flitting through him he clenched his teeth. "Go to bed," he ordered. He had never spoken to me like that before and it sent me scampering and terrified, and yes, crying myself to sleep. Later after I fell asleep I awoke and sensed another presence. My father held me half on his lap stroking my hair. He smiled at me and apologized and I snuggled up to him going back to sleep. I would remember that night forever.

Antonio picked me up now, something I knew I was too old for and ran trying to catch up with Jeremy. "Jer," daddy called as we raced down the escalator. Jeremy barley looked back. He saw Antonio pointing to a service door when he did. Jeremy quickly rushed past us and we picked our way to the lower levels of the mall. It got easier when we found mall security and paramedics rushing to the scene. We followed them but when we got there Jeremy was kept back from Clay who had his arm bent at an odd angle and a long gash running parallel to his break. He also looked dazed and not very alert.

Jeremy pushed his way through gentle but authoritative, this is how I would always remember Jeremy as a child. He got to Clay and held his left hand letting him know he was ok and that we were nearby. I clung to my father's side the tears fell down my cheeks unknown to me as I was so distracted. My father looked down at me at that moment as I watched Clay in a trance and suddenly he was crouching in front of me blocking my view. I tried to look around him but he caught my face in his hand. He rubbed the tears away before he spoke.

"Nicky, it will be ok," he assured. For once I didn't believe him even after he had convinced me that a werewolf could trounce anything lurking under my bed in two seconds. I still made him or my poppa look under my bed and in my closet every night until I was seven.

"It's my fault," I whispered sadly feeling the worst I had ever felt in my life. "I killed Clay," I cried. Fresh tears ran down onto my father's hand. He shook his head and wiped my tears again.

"No, Nicky, Clay is not dead, he is hurt but will be fine," dad assured. Again I wasn't so sure but I didn't have time to think about it before Jeremy called us.

"Antonio," Jeremy suddenly said. My father stood and led me over to the side as they discussed whether to take Clay to the Syracuse hospital or to the man in New York who my poppa paid to doctor up werewolves without questions. It might be a simple matter for a human to just go to the hospital, but if we went to a hospital and they looked over our blood samples they would know something was very wrong. They debated as I watched them work on Clay. They took his pulse and checked his eyes and his head. I looked away _my fault_ bounced through my head as I half listened to Jeremy and Antonio which I watched Clay.

"Jeremy you worry too much. If Clay needs to go to the hospital bring him to the hospital and I will deal with Dominic," Antonio assured. Jeremy regarded my father for a moment before nodding and walking back over to the paramedics. He talked to them about Clay and the ambulance trying to make a decision.

My father and I watched in silence while the paramedics prepared Clay. They brought in a stretcher and settled him on it. Just in case I suppose they put a neck brace on him, I knew if Clay were alert he would have been growling at this. As it was he was so dazed it didn't matter. Finally they took his stretcher away and Jeremy followed. Antonio picked me up again so we could follow fast and by the time we got to the ambulance Jeremy was having an argument with the paramedic about riding with Clay. For Jeremy an argument is a twitch of the lip or eye, he never yelled and even when he was panicked he was calm. Jeremy's eyebrow and lip twitched and so we both knew he was getting quite agitated.

"Jeremy," my father said approaching the two men in a half argument. I glanced into the ambulance, which I had never seen before, and almost gasped. It looked awful, like every kind of odd machine and life saving device was squished into a small compartment but they weren't using most of that on Clay. I supposed this was a good thing. My good feeling didn't last for long as I saw Clay laying there, almost unmoving. _My fault _bounced around in my head again and I fought to combat more tears of frustration and anger at myself.

"We'll take my vehicle and meet them there," Antonio told Jeremy taking his arm. Jeremy shot a look at Antonio but realizing he wasn't angry at him he softened his look and nodded. We hurried to my father's Camero and he let me down but helped me with the door pushing me in and buckling me before getting into the driver's seat. I think he was in a much bigger panic than he was showing because he usually deemed me old enough to do all these things by myself. It must be something about seeing another child hurt, when you're kids not, that had made him more protective that day.

We raced through Syracuse and finally let Jeremy out at the front door of the hospital. I had never been to this hospital before, it was medium sized but it looked quite busy. Jeremy rushed inside and my father parked the car. I jumped out as soon as we were parked and again my father took my hand hurrying me towards the entrance. We didn't need to ask where they were because my father was good at following scents. After pretending to bend down and tie my shoe for me, to get the scent, we took off and found them a floor above us.

When we got there a doctor was looking at Clay who seemed to be out of it still. Right now they were stitching up his arm while he was still groggy so he wouldn't have to go through this awake. My father and I waited off to the side. While they sewed we were silent. I wish my head was as silent though because all I could think was _my fault all my fault_ as I looked at him. Finally they were done with the sewing and another doctor came in to look at his broken arm. Clay was more awake by this time so I hopped off Antonio's lap and walked over to the side of the bed. I vaguely registered a conversation between the doctor, my father and Jeremy about the war but I didn't quite pay attention.

"Clay?" I said. He didn't answer but his eyes tiredly found me. "I'm really sorry, it was all my fault. I told you to do it," I said softly gripping the handrails for support.

"No," he croaked. "It's not your fault Nicky, it was my choice," he told me trying to make me feel better even though he was the one in pain.

"But...," I started to say. I gripped the handrail so tightly my knuckled started to turn white.

"Nicky," my father said now in a no nonsense voice. I turned and saw him at the door gesturing for me to follow. I looked back at Clay before following him to the door which he held open for me. We walked outside the room and he chose a hard plastic chair just in front of the room to sit on. I stood in front of him looking miserable, he sighed and lifted me onto his lap.

"Nickolas, look at me," he commanded. I looked into my father's eyes, he searched mine trying to gage my thoughts. "Do you understand what peer pressure is?" he asked. I thought for a moment and shook my head. I knew I had heard the word at school but I hadn't bothered to learn what it was.

"Peer pressure can be a good or bad thing; it's bad in this case. Are you with me so far?" he asked. I nodded and then answered him verbally which I knew he preferred.

"Yeah d...Antonio," I corrected myself in case anyone heard. From when I was little we had played uncle and nephew in public to make up for the slow aging thing in werewolves. It also made people stop trying to calculate the age my father was when he had me, which was way to young according to something I heard poppa talking about once.

"Peers are people your own age like Clay, or like Jeremy and I. Peer pressure is when you pressure someone into doing something that might be a bad thing. They do it because your their peer and your pressuring them so they want to prove they can do whatever they are being pressure to do," he explained. I thought about this. I had pressured Clay to jump but he had wanted to, did that make it any better? I pressured him and so this was bad...it was _my fault_. I suddenly felt more hot tears run down my cheeks as I realized this.

"Nicky," my father said softly. He turned me towards him and hugged me as I cried into his shoulder my arms going around his neck. My father always let me cry and be upset when I needed to be not making me feel as if I shouldn't cry.

"I...d...didn't...m..m..mean to d..dad," I said between choked sobs. He shushed me as he held me trying to calm me down rubbing my back.

"Nick," I heard behind me and felt another hand on my back. I looked around through swollen eyes to see Jeremy was crouching in front of us. "Nick, this wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to let Clay get hurt did you?" he asked gently looking into my eyes

"N...No" I answered swallowing a crying gasp. I felt as upset as the time I had been playing in the back woods and I saw a stranger. I did exactly what I was told and ran to the house as fast as possible where my father and poppa were calling for me and talking. I got to the edge of the lawn and the stranger bounded out in front of me between me and them. My poppa growled and as I backed up I met my father's eyes, he looked upset and angry. They took the mutt down before he could hurt me but after my father had hugged me for a full minute. I could still remember his heavy warm breath on my neck. He was very upset about letting a threat get so close to me and I felt like he had that time, I was a threat to Clay.

"Well then, this wasn't your fault. If you did this wanting Clay to be hurt then it would be your fault but you're a good boy Nick and a good friend. You would never want Clay to be hurt," he assured me as I nodded still feeling miserable.

"I...I'm s..sorry Jeremy," I finally got out in between a sob. I reached up and wiped my nose and eyes now.

"I'm not mad Nick, your father isn't mad, no one is angry or blaming you," he assured. I nodded as he gave me a small smile and got up exchanging a word with Antonio before he went back into the room.

"Nick, calm down so we can talk," my father ordered softly. I hiccupped as he wiped my tears away again and held me out in front of him so he could look at me.

"Peer pressure is not usually a good thing but it can be, now that you know what it is you just need to be careful to not do it again," he told me and I nodded."You didn't know about peer pressure or what you were doing and so, I want you to listen to me carefully. Two things, one I want you to stop blaming yourself for this because you are not at fault and two I don't want to hear anything about peer pressure again unless you have a question, ok?" he asked. I nodded again as he shifted me on his knee.

"I love you," he said. Suddenly hugging me to him again, I still felt awful and I wouldn't be able to stop blaming myself for years but I did feel loved and protected.

"I love you too dad," I whispered. He picked me up and started to take me back into the hospital room.

"Remember it's not your fault," he whispered. I only half believed him, I still felt like it was my fault, though.

Years later after still feeling slightly guilty for this action and bringing it up, Clay looked at me and called me a dumbass telling me he never thought it was my fault and our lives went on. I would never forget the lessons I learned that day, though, and I most certainly would always carry around a twinge of guilt for my part in what happened.


End file.
